


Eyes I Dare Not Meet in Dreams

by WineGum (ZombieGiraffes)



Series: Hollow [5]
Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Evolution, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieGiraffes/pseuds/WineGum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something strange running through his processor, a niggling function trying to get though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes I Dare Not Meet in Dreams

Anon runs his hands through the pile of sparkling green voxels that little the floor; they flare with light at his touch, and chime like glass against each other. Then, one by one, they melt into nothingness, first a trickle, then a flood as they disappear, leaving Anon’s hands empty and the floor clear.

There is something strange running through his processor, a niggling function trying to get though. He picks up the disc of the derezzed program and turns it over in his hands, frowning as the strange feeling becomes more pronounced.

He runs a thumb along the edge of the disc, contemplative.

He has done this before. Has held this disc before, has learned its weight and its edges. His code grinds briefly, something clashes-

He has done this before. Has held this disc before-

His code glitches, backup, retry function-

He has done this before. Has he-

Retry-

Rinzler’s hand lands heavy upon his shoulder. As Anon glances at his hand, his optical input fluctuates –his circuits are green – they’re red.

“You are damaged,” Rinzler says flatly.

Anon nods in agreement, sees green circuits that should be red.

He remembers the program he has just derezzed, sees his face, staring at him, sees it a hundred times, different places – impossible, he never – laughing at him with a shared joke, smiling at him, yelling at him, watching him with affection – no. He only saw it here, now, shocked, yelling, devastated.

He called Anon’s name.

His processor flares, his optical input goes black. The function runs. “Gibson,” it is barely a whisper, not even a breath.

Rinzler presses hard fingertips into Anon’s shoulder, impatient, vicious.

Anon closes his eyes, presses his shoulder into the harsh grind of his fingers, drops the disc on the ground where the pile of voxels lay.

“I am in need of repairs,” he says, and stands.


End file.
